Work Is Freedom
by Croutonic Sarcasm
Summary: Gilbert turned from Ludwig, refusing to meet his gaze. "There is no Ludwig any longer...Only the will of the Führer." He snorted, gazing to the moon as shots rang out. "For the good of the country. Right." Germany, Prussia, WWII era with Nazi!Germany.


**Work Is Freedom**

The wooden door burst open to reveal a rather large bootclad foot breaking it down, immediately followed by a selection of Germans clothed in Nazi uniforms. The room's occupants leapt to their feet, dark hair contrasting with the pale blond of the German man who entered with such force.

The German barked orders to his men in his harsh language. ''Get the rats! Drag them to the street and shoot them all. Try not to waste too many bullets.'' He added harshly. The trample of of the boots were loud as the darker haired people were led out, abandoning what had been a lively game of Poker. All but one man was marched out, but the last man was ignored, as though unseen.

The man wore a blue military uniform with an iron cross, and had a Prussian military style blue and black visored cap pulled low over his brow to hide his features. The man set down his cards calmly, revealing the winning hand; a Full House-- two kings, red and black, and three deuces. The slightly built man in blue leaned back, pushing back his chair to balance precariously upon two legs before flicking the visor of his cap to reveal the sharply cut features of an albino. Red eyes, platinum hair, and a smirk like the cat that caught the canary. He raised his gaze to the blond man, now the only two within the dreary shack.

''Oi, Westen, why'd you relocate my friends, eh? They were just enjoying a game with the Awesome Me.'' He laughed, a peculiar, ''ksksks'' sound that echoed in the silence.

''Osten,'' The German replied, ''They are not 'friends'. They are not even human! They are rats.'' He cast an icy blue gaze about the tiny, filthy area. ''Why are you here with them?''

Gilbert stood, but before he could speak, a rapidly chirping yellow ball of feathers flew in the room, landing lightly in the hand Gilbert offered. ''What is it, Awesomecock?'' He tilted his head to better hear the sound of the creature, ignoring Ludwig. Ludwig merely waited.

The chirping continued for a full minute. After, Gilbert frowned slightly. ''You don't say...hmmm.'' Ludwig's icy eyes went flat at Gilbert treating the chick as though its tweets made sense. ''Well, that's definitely not awesome, Gilbird. Danke.''

Ludwig snorted at that. ''Bruder, the bird cannot speak German.'' Gilbert let vermilion hues raise from the small bird as he raised his hand to let it jump to rest on his cap.

''Two things. One, I'm not your brother. Two, Awesomecock speaks Awesome. Of course you can't understand it, Dummkopf.'' He answered quite calmly. After a moment, he turned his eyes back to the discarded card game, examining the hands left behind.

Ludwig's features remained stoic at the sharp dismissal of familial bond. ''So be it.'' He watched as Gilbert circled the roughly hewn table, then took a step forward to peruse the last hand, flipping the worn cards over with a disgusted expression to reveal the faces. He raised a brow at the exposed numerals. ''A straight, red flush. Seems the rat had luck.''

Gilbert cocked his head to the side, the small golden chick holding tightly to the cap with tiny talons. Gunshots rang out in the street, the sharp cracks deafening him for a moment. ''Nein. No luck for Mordecai tonight.'' He paused for a moment, scarlet hues clouded over. ''I have lost tonight's game though.'' He glanced to the broader man. ''It isn't the first thing I have lost.'' He returned his eyes to stare at the crimson harvest moon, heavy and bloated in the night sky.

Ludwig raised a gold brow. ''What have you lost?'' Gilbert did not answer, then turned from the window and the German.

''You.'' He answered simply. ''I have lost my brother to the madness of a little man with a big plan and a book that's so long, he can't be sane. There is no Ludwig any longer...Just as there is no Prussia. Only Deutschland. Only the will of the Führer.''

Ludwig was silent, then, ''It's for the good of my country.''

Gilbert gave a soft snort. ''Ja. For the good of the country. Just like telling me those camps were just work camps. Like those gas chambers. Like Auschwitz.'' He flicked a thin hand in a disdainful motion. ''After all, work is freedom, right, Ludwig?''


End file.
